Weekend at Bertie's
by CorriesFutureWriters
Summary: What fun and games will Carla and Peter get up to when Daniel leaves his son in their care for the weekend?
1. Chapter 1

"I have absolutely no idea where everything goes," Daniel stated as he surveyed his nearly empty fridge, "I could have sworn I'd made a shopping trip just earlier this week," he shut the door and rose to his feet, "or was it last week...?"

He turned to the only other occupant in the flat and sighed, "Mummy was much more organized than daddy," he said as Bertie continued to play with a set of plastic stacking cups on his play-mat in the living room, "she always had a checklist of everything that needed to be done for each week. But your daddy was never very good at planning and organizing things, Bertie. No. Daddy likes to procrastinate right up to the last minute and then slowly starts to panic when everything starts closing in on him. A Barlow through and through..."

A soft whistling sound drew Daniel's attention to the window. "Speaking of which I really need to ask Ed round to have a look at replacing that and all before we get a leak in here," he sighed, heading in the living room and crouching down by his son who held a cup over his mouth and nose while looking up at his father. "Maybe this uni reunion might do me some good, eh Bertie? Maybe it'll get me out of the flat and Weatherfield just long enough to clear my head and get my focus back-"

_Bzzzzz Bzzzzz_

"Ahhh, that'll be the cavalry," he said as he swooped down and picked up his son, "Now you're going to be a perfect boy for Uncle Peter and Aunty Carla aren't you?" He cooed as he picked up the receiver, "hello?"

"It's us, Daniel," Peter's gruff morning voice greeted him.

"Yep, come up," he pressed the buzzer and opened the door, listening as two sets of footfalls made their way up the stairs. "Who's excited to see their favourite aunt and unc-" Daniel stopped in his tracks as a rancid scent filled his nostrils, and he bent low to sniff the boy in his arms, "oh wow..."

"Morning!" Carla cheerily entered the flat with Peter following closely behind her. Without missing a beat, she planted a soft kiss on Daniel's cheek before reaching for Bertie, "Hello gorgeous!"

Not missing the opportunity, Daniel quickly offloaded his son into Carla's waiting arms, "Right, well, thanks for doing this, you two. I really appreciate it!" He hurriedly said as he grabbed his coat and wallet.

"Whoa whoa," Peter placed a hand on his brother's chest and halted him, "what? You're off already?"

"Yeah, best get on the road, you know what traffic's like," Daniel nervously glanced at Carla, whose face now scrunched up curiously. She stopped bouncing the child in her arms, "I'm on my mobile if you need me," Daniel quickly sidestepped his brother, and made for the main door, "I uhh put the kettle on, so it should boil in no time. Thanks again," he pulled the door almost closed behind him before popping his head around the wood frame, "oh and umm, I hadn't a chance to food shop, so you uhh might need to pop down to Dev's. I've left some cash on the table. Cheers!"

Peter stood gaping at the closed door before turning to Carla, "Can you believe that?"

"Bertie wants to say hello to Uncle Peter," Carla spoke in a sing-song baby voice as she handed his nephew to him, giving the baby's chubby cheeks a friendly squeeze, "don't you laddo? Yes, you do!"

"Aww, hello Bertie," Peter's grumpy mood at Daniel's hasty exit subsiding as he turned his nephew in his arms to face him, before recoiling as the pungent smell now hit him, "Oh, now I get it," he whispered accusingly to Carla, "I should have known! You never give him up that quickly unless he needs his nappy changed."

"Come on, baby. You know you've got a stronger stomach than I do. If you do it, I'll make the brews."

"Hmm, still think I'm getting the rotten end of the stick," he recoiled back as the smell hit him again, "literally!"

Carla bit her lip and sidled up to him, walking her fingers up his chest, playfully, "I'll make it worth your while..."

"Oh yeah," his interest piqued as she pecked kisses around his jawline.

"Mmm mmm,"

"How?"

"Well," she cupped his cheek with her hand, "I think it's time to try out that lingerie you bought me for Christmas, for one..." She pressed her lips against his, her tongue smoothly pushing into his mouth, before they both pulled away from each other and gagged, "Oh phew, Peter, please just sort that!"

"Oh, you are so lucky I love you, baby," Peter winked at her and headed into the bedroom to the changing table as Carla shrugged off her coat and set about making a brew.

"Oh, God! No!" Peter's voice boomed from the bedroom before an amused Carla saw him making a beeline to the bathroom, a giggling Bertie held as far from him as his outstretched arms could reach, "it's gone right up his back!"

* * *

"That were disgusting," Peter stated, emerging from the bathroom with a freshly bathed and towel-wrapped Bertie in his arms, as Carla laughed at him, "I'm serious! That weren't natural! What is my brother feeding this kid?" He looked down at the items Carla placed on the counter, "what's that?"

"That, mister," she pointed to the tumbler, "is your tea to go, and that," she gestured to then paper, "is a food shop list."

"Are you havin' me on?"

"Peter, there's 'nowt in, and it'll be time for his lunch soon."

"I'm gonna kill Daniel..." Peter grunted

"I know, baby, but just think: the sooner you go, the sooner you get back. And the sooner this one is fed and down for a nap, the sooner we can make the most of an empty flat..."

Peter grinned at her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, "I'm gonna hold you to that."

Carla smiled and reached for the now clean Bertie, "Let's go get you changed, while Uncle Peter goes shopping, eh?" She swung a giggling Bertie in her arms, pausing to gently kiss Peter's lips, before sashaying into the bedroom.

Peter sighed, "Oh Daniel," he picked up the tumbler and the shopping list, "you so owe me."

* * *

Peter opened the door to the flat, holding multiple carrier bags in his hands from Freshco's and kicked the door shut behind him.

"Love?" He called out as he placed the bags on the countertop, "I picked up one of them already-cooked roast chickens, along with some potatoes that I'm going to make into wedges and some salad makings for our tea tonight. Should we make a start on Bertie's lunch, though?" He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans as he awaited her response, his brow furrowing when it did not come.

"Carla?" He called out into the silence of the flat before heading towards the bedroom.

He peered around the corner, and almost instantly, a broad smile tugged at his lips. He leaned against the wall watching his girlfriend read enthusiastically to the little boy cuddled against her, thumb in his mouth and eyes fixed upon the book Carla was balancing on her thighs with her free hand, in the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

_M is looped_

_N is stooped_

_O is twisted, alley-oop!_

_Skit skat skoodle doot_

_Flip flop flee_

_Look who's coming_

_It's black-eyed P_

Carla paused as Bertie giggled and reached for the page,

_Q R S_

_And loose-tooth T_

_Then U V W_

_Wiggle jiggle free_

_Last to come _

_X Y Z _

_And the sun goes down on the coconut tree..._

Her head turned sharply at the sound of a camera clicking to see Peter holding up his mobile and grinning, his eyes lingering on the image on the screen in adoration as he saved the photo before shoving the phone in his back pocket.

Rolling her eyes, Carla closed the book and placed it on the dresser, "Do you often take photos of me when I'm not looking?" She asked as she smoothly rose to her feet and adjusted Bertie in her arms.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." He wrapped his arm around her waist and drawing her towards him, his lips captured hers softly.

"Hmm, stalker..." She teased, accepting another, much longer kiss from him until a small hand pressed against both their cheeks

Carla reluctantly pulled back from Peter and blew a raspberry in Bertie's palm, earning her a squeal of delight from him.

"Right, shall we make this one his lunch, then?" Peter laughed as he pinched his nephew's cheeks affectionately.

"Yes, and I'm gasping for a coffee."

* * *

"Peter, you didn't chop those small enough!" Carla pointed to the cutting board as she bounced Bertie playfully on her hip.

Peter placed both his hands on the counter, lowering his head and taking a deep breath. From the moment he had unpacked the groceries and started working on laddo's lunch, Carla had fallen right into her bossy stride. _'You should have used chicken stock to boil the alphabet pasta to give them better flavour,'_ she had criticized, and Peter found himself dumping a nearly boiled pot of salted water down the sink and starting from scratch in response. Then she hovered in front of the oven, telling him he was reheating the leftover meatballs from Daniel and Bertie's dinner the night before at too high a temperature and would dry them out.

And now, while waiting for the pasta to finish cooking and after lowering the oven temperature to Ms. 'Microwave Meals' liking, he had washed and began chopping up the cherry tomatoes, assuming there was no way she could possibly critique him on that.

He had been wrong.

"Carla," he lifted his head and locked eyes with hers, "I can't chop them any smaller without smushing them!"

"That's because your knife isn't sharp enough."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Right," he whipped the tea towel off his shoulder, wiping his hands and flinging it on the countertop, "well, since you can do a better job, you finish making it."

"What? Pe-"

But Peter swiftly took Bertie out of her arms and swung him around, "Yes, you and I get some cuddles now while Bossy Boots makes your lunch."

She watched as he moved to the sofa, leaving her standing in the kitchen, hands on her hips, and suddenly regretting her relentless criticizing of him.

_'__Okay, you can do this, Connor,' _she encouraged herself, flinging the tea towel over her shoulder, _'it's just reheating, and chopping...'_

* * *

Peter smiled as he put the last of the dishes away, his eyes drifting to where Carla paced the floor, attempting to shush a whining Bertie. To her credit, she had been exceptionally patient for the past half hour in trying to get him to drift off while Peter tidied the mess in the kitchen following Bertie's disaster of a lunch.

After overcooking her first attempt at pasta, as well as the meatballs, and having to start again, Bertie's lunch had been pushed back nearly an hour from his standard feeding time, and he had been nothing short of cranky as they finally attempted to feed him.

As Carla had tried to encourage him to eat a cube of cheese, Bertie grabbed a handful of alphabet pasta in his chubby little fist and flung it at the pair of them. He had let out such an infectious giggle upon doing so that the two adults made the rookie error of joining in the laughter themselves.

Bertie, feeding off of this, banged his hands repeatedly upon the plastic plate in front of him. Before they could grasp what had happened, bits of smashed tomato and cheese had been littered all over the table as well as over Bertie's two childminders. Quickly fixing him another plate, they eventually managed to get him to eat the majority of his meal.

And now, Bertie, cranky and overtired, was stubbornly refusing to go down for his afternoon nap.

"Baby, he's not settling." Carla sounded exhausted as they made their way into the bedroom.

"We can always try singing him a song?"

"Me?"

"Well, yeah, us."

She shifted Bertie onto her hip and continued to bounce him softly while sticking her hand out to Peter, "sorry, allow me to introduce myself; I'm Carla Connor."

"Ha, ha! Come on, love, kids don't care if you sing off-key."

"Charmin'..."

Peter laughed, "I'm serious! Oh, come 'ere," he beckoned her closer to him as his fingers pulled a stray 'M' shaped pasta from her hair, "look, kids just like hearing your voice, right? It gets them focused on you and calms them down."

"Well," she shifted Bertie again as he started to whimper, "okay, what do you want to sing, then?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "how about that shark song?"

"Really?"

"What's wrong with that one? It's easy enough to sing, ain't it?"

"Well, don't you think he's a bit young for that?"

"How'd you mean?"

"Well," her eyes darted between Bertie and Peter, before dropping her voice to a near whisper, "won't he get nightmares?"

"From a song about sharks?"

Carla shrugged, "well, that can be scary for a kid, can't it?"

Peter chuckled as he continued to smooth out the linens in Bertie's crib, "They sing it to kids all the time now love, so I highly doubt they would if it gave little ones nightmares."

"Okay, you're the boss!" She bent over and carefully placed Bertie in his crib, "it's okay Darlin'," she cooed, grabbing one of his stuffed animals and shaking it softly in front of him, "Uncle Peter and Aunty Carla are gonna sing till you fall asleep. Aren't we? Yes, we are!"

Bertie giggled, his hands grasping the plush toy from Carla and waving it about excitedly.

Peter grinned as Carla remained bent over, crossing her arms along the crib's rail, and leaned forward towards Bertie, "Alright baby, ready?" he asked as he rubbed his hand along her back in gentle circles.

"Ready."

Peter cleared his throat "Ba-"

"Duuun dun."

He turned his head to look at her.

"Duuun dun."

"Uhhh-"

"Duuun dun, duuun dun."

"Car?"

"Duuun dun, duuun dun. Duuun dun, duuun dun."

"Hey," he poked her in the ribs, "what are you doing?"

"Oi!" She straightened up and faced him, "what are you playin' at Peter? He were enjoying that?"

"Carla, I said the 'shark' song!"

"That is the shark song!" She argued as Bertie giggled in his crib

"That's the theme from Jaws!"

"Yeah, the shark song!"

"I meant Baby Shark, Carla!"

"What the hell is Baby Shark?"

"Oh for-" Peter pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers before facing her again, "you know: baby shark do-do-do-do-do-do-"

"Oh, no!" She shook her head, "I'm not singing that song, Pe'er, I'll never get it out of me head!"

"Well, we can't sing him the theme tune to Jaws!"

"Why not?" She shrugged, gesturing to Peter's nephew, who beamed up at them both, "he likes it."

"He does, doesn't he?" Peter chewed his lip thoughtfully, throwing his arms out on either side of him in defeat, "okay, Jaws it is."

"Yay!" Carla bent over the crib's rail again, pulling Peter down with her, "ready?"

"Ready."

"Duuun dun..."

* * *

"I'm telling you now, that kid is going to have a hard time when he starts at nursery," Peter stated as he came out of the bedroom, watching Carla close the door behind her.

"Shhh, Peter! We've only just got him to nod off!"

"He's barely going to know any of the standard songs though is he love?" He continued, his voice lower now, "I mean, this kid settles if you sing him Spice Girls, according to Daniel and Brian, and now to the theme tune from Jaws. What's next, eh? That-" he snapped his fingers, "oh, you know that song. 'Bad' something. It comes on the radio in me cab all the time."

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Peter."

"Come on, you know the one, Simon had it playing in Venice! That girl sings it, with the green in her hair, what's her name?

"You mean Billie Eilish?"

"I dunno, do I?"

"Hmpff," Carla snorted with barely contained laughter as she sat down on the settee, fiddling with the baby monitor in her hand, "you can be so dramatic."

"No, I'm serious, Car. I mean, whatever happened to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, or Rock-A-Bye baby?"

"You are kidding, right? That's a horrible song!"

"What's wrong with it?" He kicked off his shoes before stretching out on his back on the sofa next to her, "it's a classic!"

"Peter, it's about a baby on a treetop!" She gestured above her with one arm and placing the baby monitor on the coffee table with the other, "then the branch actually breaks, and the baby comes crashing to the ground below in its cradle. And here I was thinking the wordless song from Jaws were gonna give him nightmares!"

Peter beckoned for her to lie down with him, "well, it's got a good tune to it."

"Yeah, well so does Love the Way You Lie, why don't you sing that to him next?"

"Fair point," he chuckled, planting a kiss on her forehead and stroking her hair as she snuggled closer into his body.

"How long do you reckon we've got?" Carla yawned, lazily running her fingertips along his chest.

"An hour. Two if we're lucky." Peter yawned in kind, closing his eyes and pressing his lips once more to Carla's temple before settling his cheek against the top of her head.

Carla's eyelids fluttered slowly, "Mmm, let's hope we're lucky then..." she mumbled.

* * *

_ Author: dipdipdipmyblueship_

Book excerpt:_ Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by_ Bill Martin


	2. Chapter 2

Peter pulled Carla's body a little closer to his as he adjusted his position on the sofa, a soft moan escaping his lips as consciousness beckoned to him, tempting him to leave dreamland behind. He nuzzled gently into Carla's hair, breathing in the scent of, what was that, he thought through the haze that was still settled over his mind. Something tropical? Yes, that's what it was; coconut and frangipani shampoo. He'd seen the bottle plenty of times in the shower and the scent of it now took him to faraway lands, to faraway oceans; to a time where he and Carla had little else to do all day but laze in the sun, enjoying the balmy weather, enjoying each other.

The memory of those lazy days aboard the Lady Bronwen stirred him from within; he pressed his body into her back, his groin into her arse, as his hand skimmed over her body and, fumbling at the hem of her top, sought access to the warm smooth skin beneath, caressing her tummy and up to her breasts, massaging those soft plump mounds with his fingers, and tweaking her nipples between his thumb and his forefinger as he slipped his hand underneath the lacy fabric of her bra.

With his other hand, he brushed aside the hair that was covering her neck and leaned in, kissing her softly at the nape of her neck; one kiss, two kisses, a little lick, another kiss, then another, drawing a line of kisses with his lips along her shoulder.

With Carla's nipples hard and erect after the ministrations of Peter's fingers, he slowly moved his hand and, skimming it back over her tummy and down, he slipped his finger into the top of her jeans, and beneath the skimpy thong she wore underneath, seeking that place, hot and wet, that lay between her thighs.

"Mmmm…" Carla murmured as Peter's lips and Peter's fingers slowly brought her to life, arousing her ever so gently, building within her an overwhelming desire for him.

She leaned her head back, exposing to him her neck, her jaw, and her lips, wanting his lips upon her, kissing her, his tongue sweeping across her skin, across her lips, darting into her mouth.

Twisting her body around, she turned over, facing him now, face to face, body to body, lips to lips. She reached out and caressed his cheek, running her fingers over the stubble on his chin, through his hair, and slowly her fingers glided down his neck, along his shoulder, then lightly down his arm and down down ever lower. She reached down and, after swiftly unfastening his jeans, took hold of his cock in her hands, teasing it into life, gripping it firmly in her hand as it thickened and hardened under her touch.

"Oh… yes…" Peter moaned. "Oh, baby…"

Carla's lips once more sought out Peter's, her mouth opened as her tongue swept over his lips and into his mouth as her hand glided smoothly over his shaft, up and down, up and… a sense of déjà vu suddenly swept over Carla. There was something strangely familiar about this.

Oh my god! She pulled her hand away from him as she realised, sparking an immediate protest from his lips.

"Don't stop, baby," he pleaded softly, his hand reaching down and squeezing her arse cheeks.

"No, Peter," Carla said with a new sense of urgency. "We can't."

"It's okay," he whispered, nibbling gently on her ear. "The baby's asleep."

"Peter," Carla repeated, her hands on his chest, pushing him away. "Peter, stop."

He pressed his fingers into her arse a little and kissed her more insistently.

"Peter, no!"

"What's wrong?" Peter asked as he pulled away from her, clearly frustrated at her sudden reluctance. "I've never known you to be so coy before."

"It's not that, it's..."

"It's what?"

"Not here," she said somewhat cryptically.

"Why not? Bertie can't hear us and Daniel won't be home for –"

"Anywhere but here."

"Carla, you're not making any sense– oh my god, you didn't. You did! You and Daniel? On this sofa?"

"Maybe…" Carla confessed sheepishly, cringing at the memory.

"Oh, that's way too much information."

"I'm sorry."

"Can you…" Peter said, nudging Carla gently off the sofa.

"Alright!" she protested. "I'm getting up! Just…"

Carla pushed herself upright and fell back against the sofa, Peter slouching into place next to her a moment later.

"So…" Carla said, her hands fidgeting in her lap, not daring to look directly at Peter. "What now?"

"I need to get out of here," he said, scowling as he glanced down at the sofa and shuddering at the thought at what had gone on in that very spot between his lover and his brother, before struggling to his feet. "I need to get off this thing for starters."

"Why don't we go out?" Carla suggested.

"Bertie's asleep."

"When he wakes up obviously."

"Yeah," Peter nodded. Okay, that's a good idea. I'll go check on him."

Carla watched Peter go with a sigh. Never one to regret a fling once it was over with, she couldn't help but regret her choice of partner on that one occasion. If nothing else, it had resulted in two very frustrated people that afternoon, neither of them satisfied. She would have to make it up to him when they got home that evening. Yes, she determined, she would make him forget all about her and Daniel.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Carla asked anxiously as she held Bertie's hand, glancing at Peter who was crouched down holding Bertie's other hand as the little lad swayed gently, held upright on his feet between the two of them.

"Yes," Peter reassured her. "Daniel said he can take a couple of steps if you hold his hand."

"Okay," Carla agreed, "You ready then, Bertie, love? You ready to take a little walk?"

Peter rose to his feet and together, he and Carla gripped firmly onto Bertie's hands as they took a tiny step forward on the soft grass of the Red Rec. Bertie raised his right foot and, with only the tiniest wobble, placed it back down on the ground.

"Well done, mate!" Peter congratulated him. "You wanna do another one? Yes, you do!"

And so, in unison, all three took another step, with their left feet this time and, in unison, Carla and Peter both cheered Bertie's efforts. In celebration of his two steps, they lifted him into the air, swinging him along with a "Wheeeee!" before placing him back down on the ground.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said a woman who was walking past, arm-in-arm with her husband. "You must be very proud of your son."

"We are," Carla agreed, smiling down at Bertie. "He's just perfect."

"Enjoy your afternoon," the woman added before walking on.

"What?" Carla asked, blushing under Peter's suddenly intense gaze. "What are you looking at?"

"You," he said. "Pretending Bertie was ours."

"So?" Carla dismissed him, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. "It was easier than trying to explain the connection."

"There's nothing complicated in saying, 'Oh, he's actually our nephew,' is there?"

Once again, Carla merely shrugged, but she couldn't quite keep the grin from her face.

"Or was it," Peter continued. "That you liked the idea that he was ours? That maybe you might want one of our own?"

"I'm getting worried about you," Carla deftly sidestepped Peter's questions. "You're getting broody, you are."

"And you didn't answer me."

"I'm not going to either."

"Okay," Peter said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "That's fine, I won't push you. Not til you're ready."

"Bertie, my love," Carla chose to ignore Peter and focus on the baby teetering from side-to-side as he held on tightly to the hands of his Aunty Carla and Uncle Peter. "You wanna take a coupla more steps? Are you ready? And…"

* * *

"What is Uncle Peter up to?" Carla asked in a sing-song baby voice aimed at Bertie, as he sat on his special play rug that Carla had laid out on the living room floor, banging on his brightly coloured xylophone toy with his brightly coloured mallet. She peered up at Peter from her position on the floor in front of Bertie, furrowing her brow as she watched him struggling with the kitchen window. "What on earth are you doing, Peter?"

"Daniel mentioned," he explained as he tried to force the window. "That the window in here was jamming and wouldn't open properly. So I thought I would fix it for him."

"Baby, is that a good idea? You're not exactly Mr Fix-it, are you?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that if Daniel wants his window fixed then he can get someone in to do it. Seb or someone like him. A proper handyman."

"I am a proper handyman," Peter insisted. "You just watch."

Carla rolled her eyes and turned back to Bertie with a smile. But her smile quickly faded when she saw that Bertie was gone.

"Bertie?" she called out tentatively. "Bertie, love? Where are you?"

Pitching her body forward so that she was sat crouched on her hands and knees, she crawled forward, on the hunt for the runaway baby.

"Bertieeee…" she called out. "I'm coming to get you… Are you… under the coffee table?"

She lowered her head and peered underneath the coffee table, but no Bertie was to be found there.

A snuffling giggle alerted her to his position but, wanting to extend their game a little bit longer, she went looking for him in the opposite direction.

"I know," she mused, crawling along to the armchair, "I know where you are… are you… behind… the chair!?"

She pounced at the armchair, peering behind it, and feigning surprise when she saw that he wasn't there.

"Oh no!" she gasped. "Where are you, Bertie?"

She crawled along the floor, looking this way, then that. "Are you… hiding under the cushions…? Or are you… hiding behind the door…? I know where you are… You are…"

She lowered herself down, almost to the ground, pressing her cheek to the floor and peered underneath the sofa.

"There you are!"

Grinning back at her, looking at her from the other side of the sofa, was Bertie, delighting in this game of hide-and-seek.

"I'm coming to get you!"

Carla galloped like a pony along the living room floor, around the edge, and to the rear of the sofa where Bertie was waiting for her.

"I've got you now!"

She grabbed onto him, half-tickling and half-cuddling him, while he squealed with the excitement of it all.

"Did you have fun playing hide-and-seek with Aunty Carla?" she asked him, gripping him underneath his arms and bouncing him gently as she held him in an upright position. "Did you have fun, did you?"

Bertie smiled and laughed as Carla bounced him, every now and then lifting him high into the air before returning him to the ground.

"Oh no," Carla said, suddenly concerned by a strange look that had come over Bertie's face. "What's happening? Bertie? What are you–? Oh, no!"

Carla grimaced as Bertie, having enjoyed one bounce too many, vomited all over Carla.

"Oh, Bertie."

"What happened?" Peter asked as he wandered to where Carla and Bertie were sitting. "Oh," Peter said as he clocked Carla covered in sick, and tried his hardest not to smile, but failing miserably.

"Stop it!" Carla said, noticing Peter's half-hidden grin. "It's not funny."

"Come on," he chivvied her. "It's a little bit funny."

Carla slumped down with a mixture of laughter and sobbing as she held Bertie at arm's length.

"Here," Peter said, reaching down to pick up Bertie. "I'll take care of laddo here if you wanna go clean yourself up?"

"Thank you," Carla said as she rose to her feet.

"The state of you!" Peter couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Carla, normally a picture of the well-groomed woman, but now with bits of baby vomit in her hair, on her face, over her clothes.

"Love you, too," she said, unable to resist planting a kiss on Peter's cheek, her vomit-covered cheek coming dangerously close to his.

"Eww! Carla!" Peter grimaced. "Get away with you!"

* * *

Carla peered into the bathroom mirror and lamented her damp hair and her damp top after her quick basin wash that, while she looked fairly clean, couldn't quite shift the smell of baby vomit.

"Oh, Bertie," she whispered to her reflection. "You are so lucky you're cute."

With a shake of her head, she made her way out to the living room, pausing for a moment to admire the sight of Peter sat on the sofa, young Bertie perched on his knee. He was talking in low tones to his nephew, his hands clasped softly but firmly about the youngster's waist as his knee bounced up and down, causing Bertie to jiggle about quite happily.

"Don't you two look adorable," Carla observed as she made her way to the sofa and sunk down into the cushions next to the boys. "Hey?" She reached out and gently squeezed one of Bertie's chubby little cheeks. "You feeling better, my love?"

_Brrrrinnnng brrrinnng_

"Who dat?" Peter asked as he reached for his mobile phone. "Oh, it's Daniel."

"Checking up on us no doubt."

"Daniel," Peter greeted his brother. "Oh, yeah, we're having a fabulous time … yes, he's been great, perfect even, an absolute joy … What? You want us to keep him overnight?" Peter exchanged an anxious look with Carla who, without hesitation, smiled and nodded. "Of course I understand, you need a break. That's totally fine," he reassured his brother, yanking a tissue from the box on the coffee table and gently wiping away some baby sick that had stubbornly remained on Carla's cheek. "Yes, we're sure, we'd love to have him."

* * *

_Author: thelocalknickermerchant _


End file.
